


The President

by senisensei



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Angst, Drug Use, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hallucinations, M/M, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-25
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-07-17 09:23:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16092752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senisensei/pseuds/senisensei
Summary: This is the life of a young president, a friend, a colleague, and a lucid dreamer; the story of a man who loved wordlessly.





	1. Overview

**Author's Note:**

> Here is a trigger warning: smut, violence, propaganda, drug abuse, temperament issues, alcohol intake, unusual psychological behavior, lucid dreaming, and the occasional suicide attempts. 
> 
> This story is quite a handful, and explores various dark realistic and psychological themes. I am marking it as NC-19/18+. If you are not comfortable with what has been declared please refrain from reading this story. Otherwise, enjoy!

Kyungsoo tries to explore the perilous streets of his youth: he's met with choices he never ought to take and decisions he regrets, yet value are made.

Secrets are brought to light, relationships challenged, promises kept. But the most important promise is to yourself, to keep holding on tightly with nothing in between but nationwide issues, usage of psychedelic heroin, dead presidents and canned heat - not to mention, a criminal romance too.

 

* * *

 

Kyungsoo is a young president. He indulges on what the life of the elite gives him but in between small thoughts and underlying meanings of said words, he longs for the normal life he once dreamt of having. The freedom to enjoy youth and what comes with it. He didn't feel caged, it's just a simple matter of longing and desire. He wants to be normal, you could say, but he had too many responsibilities and too many problems. But people tend to explore, they want to know things they aren't supposed to know. Kyungsoo was just the same. It was a chance to let go of the coffee mornings, cabinet meetings and the  blue Italian linen satin bed sheets - and as his mind sees best, he let's it go.

Chanyeol's life was more or less bullshit. Errands here, errands there. How come life was economically unstable for their family? He doesn't fucking know, and he's sure his father's business with the government was nothing near just and right. But he doesn't speak out, he just does what he's ordered to. The mafia, the money, the drugs - it was his cup of tea. He never backs out, it was a father-son thing, the only relationship he had left that was deserving to be valued and was worth protecting. So even when he's asked to fuck up the balance in the judicial sect of the state, he does as told.

Baekhyun was broken and he wasn't craving to be fixed. He once fell and stood up but now no, it doesn't make sense anymore.  He had been isolated for so long now, and it was of his own choice- to seal himself away from the world. Half of his life has been veiled with lies to protect him and what he thought he treasured the most, but he miserably fucked up.     

Sehun was a part of  a coup de tat organisation. _Was_. He disregarded the past when he's met with struggles only the army was able to solve for him. He believed he got stronger in all ways possible which helped him develop as a person. He feels things start tumbling down bit by bit when he finds himself falling for no other than his colleague at work, and it wasn't for love- it was for pleasure.     

Junmyeon claims he doesn't like attachment but he's a hypocrite. Sehun was his present, and his future. His smiles, his tears and whatever he gives him- that made Junmyeon continue living. It kept him alive. Prevented him from crumbling. But maybe, the only thing keeping him from letting go was the past: the pain someone had left and the unmended heart he possesses. 

 

* * *

 

 

> the heart has its reasons, which reason itself does not know. but the beauty of it is the ignorance : the unawareness of how time passes by and how we masquerade ourselves with growth, existing to believe  that we can change, blindly deceiving ourselves that we change to keep on believing — to keep on living.

 

  I like dreaming for it is terrifying yet pleasurable.

  Terrifying in the sense that it can either be a nightmare or it can be too real. Too real to the touch, to the senses and to the mind: as if an illusion that crosses the boundary of reality engulfs you within itself. It all feels true, from the roughness of the sand beneath my feet to the warmth of the wind hitting my face. This is where I want to be, actually. A place to escape. 

 

 

  "Baekhyun?" Kyungsoo's voice resounded inside the room. It seemed as if the sound bounced off the bookshelf and the chairs as well as it made the said man sharply turn to face his figure on the reclining chair, "Is it really dangerous?"

  He quirked an eyebrow, "Even if it was, you like it don't you, Kyungsoo?" Eyeing the younger male while he traced his finger on a row of leather-clad books, Baekhyun smiled knowingly to himself. Their therapies had started two weeks ago, and Kyungsoo showed no signs of stopping his new found pass time as he naps: spontaneous lucid dreaming. 

 

 

>          _I was actually running, on the streets. There were no men in suits, I was alone but someone was chasing me. I felt it, the presence was there. Everything was realistic, it was so four dimensional: the splashes of water on the street as I rushed by, the strong whiff of pollution and his hands — they were undeniably pale and cold, though when he held my arm, I can't help but feel right._

  "Look Mr. President, we can set these issues aside. Let's talk about Aristotle instead?" Baekhyun stood beside him staring, trying to help him wander away from distracting himself.

  Kyungsoo gave a loud 'tsk' as a rebuttal. He creased his eyebrows as his thoughts passed inside his head like busy street nights in the metropolis. There was something bothering him – no, someone bothering him. He kept on dreaming like this ever since that incident had happened. Sure yet hesitant, he knew it was him.   

 

 

— 14:53 September 6th

  "The president has entered the area, I repeat: the president has entered the area." Sehun monotonously recited on his intercom, waiting for the others' confirmation.

  He positioned his earpiece and licked his lips, mentally preparing himself for his duty. Gaze dark and penetrating, he scanned faces around him as he escorted the president towards the site. The cloud of ravenous smoke above him was lifted off of him as a warm hand crept up to his hand.

  Junmyeon smiled, "I'll take it from here, go guard outside."

  "Yes, sir."

  Kyungsoo read the signs and the gestures, he tried to hide his smile but couldn't. Trying to silence his emotions, he heaves a sigh, before glancing at Junmyeon with questioning eyes.

  The other just shook his head and pressed on his earpiece before guiding Kyungsoo through the hallways.

  His entrance would never fail to be so grand. Catching attention was his forte, inexorably. For twenty six years of his prestige-induced life, it's always been the same rules and rituals, even the faces didn't change.

  Kyungsoo grew up with Junmyeon as 'master and errand boy'. They were also playmates once, but never classmates as Junmyeon was three years older than him. He can vividly picture the past: once Kyungsoo graduated grade school homeschooling, Junmyeon was finishing high school somewhere in Beijing; the moment Kyungsoo had managed to survive a private school for the elite, Junmyeon was taken in the army for training.

  And that leads to now, the present where Kyungsoo was sitting on the throne and Junmyeon, his knight in shining armor.

  Then people say he also had his hound.

  Oh Sehun, the black-sheep amongst the other guards, the most favoured yet widely disliked. He wasn't despicable but was despised. The poor boy was only staying true to what he was once then, but Kyungsoo believes in the change that he underwent. Kyungsoo trusted him, and so did his advisers. That was enough for him to obtain a second chance.

  "Sit on the pretty chair in the middle, Mr. Pres," Junmyeon whispered, pointing at the chair placed in front of the long table. There were four others sitting at the sides, only Kyungsoo's was unoccupied. "C'mon, go." Junmyeon gave him a gentle tap on the small of his back before he walked towards his seat.

  "Good afternoon, Sir President," a big time company stockholder greeted, he was a representative for a chain of organizations and corporal companies that promoted South Korea worldwide.

  Giving a respectful smile, Kyungsoo bent his head down as a greeting and then started staring at each and every one of them in the eye. He doesn't break contact, well, it's the president you're talking to – a man of rigidity.

  "Mr. Park has the stock reports, the senate has debated on passing the law and submitting it to you," Jongdae scribbled something down on paper with his eyes staying on Kyungsoo's face even if the other wasn't looking at him.

  "The Chinese market has gone up the bar, Sir, I have already informed your father," Junmyeon chirped in the chat with eyes observing the exchanged folders between Mr. Park and the president, "And I believe Mr. Park has yet to introduce to you, his son, Master Park."

  Kyungsoo's brow raised in curiosity at the lad sitting inelegantly beside his father who slumped on his chair with his head down chuckling, voice thick and deep. He felt Mr. Park flinch, and the boy sat straight before giving a menacing grin towards Kyungsoo, "I'm Park Chanyeol, it's a pleasure to finally meet you, Sir President. Look forward to my participation in the industry, Sir."

  His vision blurred, the man gave off a different vibe and an overwhelming aura. It's like the air was drugged when he started talking, and when he smiled - Kyungsoo felt so nauseous.

  Recomposing himself, Kyungsoo smiled and noticed Chanyeol's extended hand then he shook it, their skin touching and prickly. Goosebumps formed on his neck and he started sweating, the hand was dead cold. He bore his eyes onto the elder's and tried seeing through it – nothing but drowning black.

 

 

 

 

> being lost is not being able to find what lies deep within you; this is humanity's fault. we continuously wander around places, around people and around thoughts – trying to dwell on moments and to linger on memories that are not coordinates nor bearings for us to locate our true desires. we have to delve deeper, explore, understand with a given sacrifice and then only, our hearts point to our destination: eternity.

 

 _I am greedy, just like any other person could be_ , he said.

  But this greed comes with a choice, which again, is something any other person – like you – could have. I can choose to give up things or get things; fix things or break them. And mind you, both are pretty expensive but money isn't what you get it with — trust is. Never knew breaking something whilst being broken was annoying as fuck.

 

 

  "How do I," Kyungsoo pulled at his hair, slightly scratching his scalp, "how do I even know what he thinks," he questions with uneven breathing. "How come his thoughts are etched on my skin," he continues to interrogate the man staring back at his confused eyes, "How am I aware of his desires and his regrets," he cries out.

  The clogging up inside his lungs and the asphyxiation made him tired and lethargic. His throat dries and his tongue stiffens at a point before things slowly ease back to how they used to be. Kyungsoo would salivate when he stares at nothingness too, then sometimes he would start sweating even at a really fully air conditioned room. He's gotten weird, moody and somewhat vomits out frustration by self pity or attempted self harm.

  "How is he so sad but so beautiful," he whispers as he closes the distance between him and the other being, "why does his smell reek out of me and his cologne," Kyungsoo claws at the face of the other, "it's stuck on my bed sheets," he sobs with hot tears streaming down from his red eyes, lack of sleep evident from them.

  Fatigue dripped from his voice when he croaked out, "Images of him flash in my head like a movie," Kyungsoo sniffles and gulps, "it's like he's always watching me," he says with mixed fascination, longing and fear, "He lives inside my mind, fucking damn it," he bellows suddenly before slapping himself.

  He reaches out to the man he's face to face with, eyes searching for a light that got extinguished by a brand new one. Kyungsoo's fire burned in Chanyeol's flames as his were much hotter, complicated and dangerous compared to Kyungsoo's. The heat ate Kyungsoo's tender and meek heart, his once untouched self leaked out what seemed to be impurity.

  Writhing fingers painstakingly glide down the broken image, pain seething through his veins. Bloodshot eyes and bruised lips, Kyungsoo stares at the man on the other side and presses his cheek on the cold, dented surface. The mirror barely able to hold itself intact as Kyungsoo allows himself to be taken into the inside of it – the other man who he had been venting out to.

  Isolation has never driven him insane, till now.

 

 

 

 

> illusions commend themselves to us because they save us pain and allow us to enjoy pleasure instead. we must therefore accept it without complaint when they sometimes collide with a bit of reality against which they are dashed to pieces.

 

  He's never really thought about it but when he chose to, his body hits the sheets and his legs end up locking behind the small of Chanyeol's back with their lips locked in a searing kiss. Kyungsoo gives up the decency to think of what will happen tomorrow when they wake up to an empty bed of the president – again.

  They should mind their own business, he thinks but then tells himself that he's the whole country's business as they were his business so disappearing in the middle of the night was something the whole nation would talk on. But like the past few nights, when Chanyeol ravishes his neck and nips on patches of his skin his thoughts go directly somewhere else and blood rushes down to his groins. This is the part where he gyrates their hips too, which then elicits a throaty groan from the other.

  "Kyungsoo," he feels Chanyeol murmur against his skin, and he swears to the heavens that he'll combust with all the heat emitted from his body. Feelings swirling at the pit of his stomach, he grimaces when he feels Chanyeol latch their lips in a tight lock again as the taller pushes him on top, making Kyungsoo straddle him.

  Shifting, he stares down at him with half lidded eyes as he strips him of his own clothes, leaving Kyungsoo clad with a shirt and his underwear. Chanyeol eyes him before trailing the tip of his nose down his chest, mumbling incoherent words Kyungsoo can't seem to pick up.

  Then Chanyeol kisses him through the fabric, biting and licking, the material sticking on his abdomen now. This was kind of his fetish, senseless fucking with Kyungsoo beautifully left with whatever top he wore to bed stuck on his skin with sweat and sex. Kyungsoo moans when Chanyeol bucks up, and then he pushes him down on the mattress again.

  His bare chest presses down to Kyungsoo's and they grind their hips together, Chanyeol's palms caressing his sides as he hovers on top of him. Their eyes never shift, with their breathing in sync. The taller goes down to lick on his Adam's apple and Kyungsoo moans, the vibration travelling from his scalding skin to Chanyeol's plump lips.  

  The tips of his fingers graze down his spine and Chanyeol controls his inhales, trying to take in air whilst marking Kyungsoo's pretty, pale neck. Kyungsoo pulls his hands up to Chanyeol's head, tangling his fingers with his hair and pulls at it unhurriedly. This was probably what they both liked about the sex they had – slow but storm-tossed. 

  Feasibly others ought to think that they only lasted till the pleasure, but they were wrong in judgement. Chanyeol has the nerve to search for Kyungsoo's clothes when their breathing has calmed and their libido has toned down – Chanyeol has the heart to flip Kyungsoo over and sweetly dress him back with his underwear before tugging the covers on his tired body and slipping under it to be beside him. 

  Kyungsoo never wakes up to an empty side of the bed, it's always filled with Chanyeol and his angelic self as he's in deep slumber. Somewhere in the confines of sleep and lassitude, he leans towards his face and pecks his calmly thinned lips, wishing Chanyeol wouldn't notice. Not wanting to alter the balanced gradient of their tie-up, Kyungsoo immediately lies back and nuzzles his pillow, muffling inaudible phrases to himself. It was almost a daily routine, to be honest. 

  He can't fall in love, not once, twice, just never. Since love is too simple but is complex – it indulges on light feelings, lacks lucidity, overflows with fervor and has an infinity. Because they say love never dies, even if the person does but sadly, oh so sadly – that's what they both want. 

  A simply complicated death; something similar to love, but darker, more lucid, needs fervor and has an arbitrary end. 

 


	2. Deals with Devils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So love will continue to live, with the memories pinned with it but the bearer of this 'love' slowly but surely disappears. Therefore I beg to differ with Baekhyun's thoughts on love. Rather, me being in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kyungsoo's recalls and lucid dreams will always be quoted.

**T** he government was no playground — with the president as an exception. Kyungsoo's either attending corporal party events or staying late up in his study to look over the country's issues when the prime minister does nothing but pass everything to him.

 His son was an entirely different issue though.

  The Kim blood line has been in the business for years (taking into note that they're the modern-day successors of the Kim dynasty from 1st century AD) and their only fly in the ointment – according to Kyungsoo's father – was the present minister, who used to be in the finance department.

  Their family had been beside Kyungsoo's for a long time in history already, and have been considered to be the government's best legends. They were fair, right and honest. The Kim's knew what was right for the people, under the president's decision and approval - so they did what they could. That leads to Prime Minister Kim's son, a serving lieutenant general in the army: Officer Kim Jongin.

  Jongin was a very promising suitor to the president since childhood, even if they never really had direct interactions in the past up to now. You could suggest that it was admiration from afar, as the Kim's have always served the president whilst looking up to his ways. Same as what tradition tells us, Jongin has admired the president in some point of his life as he continued to get promoted in terms of rank in the army. This explains the hostility he has portrayed against some of the president's guards and men. 

  On the other hand, he's been wanting to be with Kyungsoo and earn his trust as a focal point and a backbone for a friendship for the last three years, but he's never gotten the chance. It always seemed that his father drew him slowly away from the presidential sect and has insisted on getting him to win over a few of the senators' daughters. Despite the family dispute that he'd caused on insisting to befriend Kyungsoo, his father has yet to disown him or rid him of his rank. 

  All changes when Jongin encounters the spokesperson of the house and casually asks if the president was alone in a pleasant Tuesday afternoon, getting a good 'yes' as a start to his day ahead. 

 

  Italian linen is a luxurious fabric made only in Italy from the long-staple cotton that is grown exclusively in Egypt. The lustrous cotton that covered what seemed like a costly bed was knotted with the legs of two barely conscious beings with shallow breaths and sweaty bodies. The smell of sex and cologne infused the room making it almost impossible to breathe. The heat and pressure in the air was enough to make a body weaken and collapse. 

  Yet they weren't close to done.

  Kyungsoo had his head back, limping on the walls of the room. His back arched and his neck muscles strained. With Chanyeol's girth buried deep inside of him, his walls continuously clenching and tightening around the other he doesn't need to be drugged to feel pleasure.

  Just the mere thought of their hips snapping back in place, as if molded for each other drove Kyungsoo's sanity to rid of itself. Mouth latched onto Chanyeol's with their tongues locked and fighting, his whimpers would be muffled but nonetheless loud.

  He had his fingers trailing long, angry red marks on Chanyeol's skin as his legs hug the latter's waist tightly, holding on for dear life. He had been on top of Chanyeol as they both sat on the sheets, one particular side of the bed dipping low with the covers touching the floor. Despite this, Chanyeol doesn't stop and continues to buck his pelvis upwards, allowing Kyungsoo to indulge on this sweet as fuck ride of his life.

  God knows what Chanyeol does when he hears the other say his name and mutter curses in deep grumbles and sometimes, short, faint gasps. The feeling was good, fairly. It was a tidal wave of euphoria inside Kyungsoo's stomach and the pleasure was ecstatic. It made him shudder in complete fulfillment.  

  Chanyeol would thrust and his brows would crease in sync with his movements. It wasn't concentration or any of that sort but it was the feeling. It'd always be overwhelming, there would be a tingling sensation but it was overpowered by a pang in the head that came along with Kyungsoo's comforting kisses and pecks.

  A string of sinful words follow after his name and he finds himself picking up in speed. Kyungsoo doesn't fail to drive him to his edge, just literally push him to his limits. It was all too amusing for him, and Kyungsoo greatly peaked his interests. It was satisfying to have such an effect on the other, like this.

  Getting down from their release, Kyungsoo falls on Chanyeol's side as the taller cleans himself up. Breathing slowly easing down to a steady pace, they both wrap themselves in an inaudible noise of anxiety and satisfaction.

  The walls echoed off the carpet as the whiteness was dulled by their hazy sight. It was barely noon but Kyungsoo got pulled in the whirlpool again, and who was he to reject? He can never refuse Chanyeol, not over his dead body. 

  Nothing ever went out of this room's door. Not a word nor a phrase. Kyungsoo never talked about it, neither did Chanyeol but they, somehow, knew they both wanted to say something. Even if they wanted to keep it professional, it can never stay like this forever. 

  Because Kyungsoo knew in his mind that he can't always disappear when the nation needed him most. He doesn't know about Chanyeol but he also felt that it was too much of a burden for the other to stay on the bed after they downed from their high. It's like his conscience whispered every single time before he crosses the junction of consciousness to sleep that Chanyeol may find it troublesome to dress him back or to even pull the covers up for him. 

  Since there were _no_ mutual feelings. 

  Not that Kyungsoo knows the other side of the story but hoping was too tiring, so he'd rather not. Nothing else was reciprocated after the sex but the tired glances and some small smiles, a few chuckles sometimes but he knew Chanyeol's heart was as void as his eyes - as empty and as dark. 

  Since there were no hopes of love or infatuation, he hasn't been completely honest with the man either. He doesn't tell him his problems or his worries - with Sehun knowing more than the man who's put up his package inside his asshole - since he deemed it would distract Chanyeol and make him grow some kind of distance from Kyungsoo, some kind of unwanted thought might be brought up if he gets clingy. That's why Chanyeol was oblivious of Kyungsoo and his dreaming. 

  His darkly beautiful dreaming of _him_. 

  And Chanyeol doesn't know that after each and every time they make out or have sex, Kyungsoo gets those dreams. They were complicated dreams, dreams Kyungsoo wished came true - because it was his free place. A happy place. 

  We are all made of dreams, and our life stretches from sleep before birth to sleep after death. Dreams are illusions and illusions are our desires, our wants and what we lust for. His dreams were never nightmares because he gets to have a huge say in it - just like how he has over the country. Control, Kyungsoo had control. 

  Driven by lethargy and drowsiness, his last memory before hitting the sack is his last memory with Chanyeol, day after day before he enters a completely new realm in his mind where he alters everything he wants to - including Chanyeol and his feelings. 

  When you think of a person too much, it means you get to dream of them and you genuinely like them, or maybe love them. Kyungsoo retaliates to that with completely dreaming of only him and Chanyeol, creating a possible relationship that he's too afraid to try in all means of reality and awareness. 

  He'd rather dream every night of Chanyeol than to tell him he wants to eat for lunch, because that's not how the world wants them to be. They can't have little bits of eternity because it comes with a pricetag even the president can't seem to afford. And no matter how much money Kyungsoo takes out of his wallet for that cause, he hesitates and puts the money back in his pocket where it'll be safe: like his heart. 

  Never will he speak in all honesty about what he truly felt; never will he give his heart. Chanyeol doesn't even ask for it so who is he trying to fool? 

  Almost three months have been playing on and on like an old black and white film. Nothing has changed, nothing needs change. So just like the old times, Kyungsoo shuts both his eyes and his mouth, waiting for sleep to fetch him and take him back to deep within his mind. 

  A _free_ place.

 

 

  Fidgeting on his seat like a child, Jongin adjusts his uniform and fixes his cap back on his head. He waits patiently inside the study where Jongdae had brought him to because he's been promised to meet Kyungsoo here. 

  The door clicks open and he straightens himself up before Kyungsoo slips inside the room and beams up at him, his eyes almost twinkling like stars. 

  "Hey," Kyungsoo says as he fixes his cuff links, "how are you Jongin?" 

  His name rolled off his tongue a bit too casually because an obvious blush creeps up to Jongin's cheeks and he smiles sheepishly at how comfortable the president is with some bloody killing machine. 

  "We've actually only met like this today so, Sir," Jongin scratches the back of his head as he watches Kyungsoo place himself on the desk, "I'm a bit uncertain on how to address you." 

  He laughs softly, smile genuine as he eyes the boy in front of him. He was quite an awkward turtle for a commanding general, "Kyungsoo is fine, age matters for today but not position." 

  "Then shouldn't it be Kyungsoo hyung?" Jongin teases as he relaxes on the chair, now a bit more relaxed. 

  Not saying anything, the older just gives him one of those casual smiles that suffocated Jongin in a good, pleasurable way. 

  That kind of smile that made him check his wristwatch if the small hand of the clock still ticked, because he was stuck in the moment, that half second when the very end of Kyungsoo's lips quirk to the moment he flashes his teeth before the smile gets replaced with a frown. An adorable frown.

  "Is there something on my face?" Kyungsoo questions him and touches his face, fingers brushing his cheeks to his nose. Jongin shook his head rather embarrassed for staring too much, "No, it's fine. You're- you're fine." 

  Another grin played on his lips, "So, you wanted a chat?" Kyungsoo loosens the tight atmosphere that lingered above their heads and Jongin removes his cap, "Actually..." 

  A hum forces him to stand up abruptly, since in these wee ten minutes they had spent in one room, just staring at things awkwardly but time to time at each other, he's never felt to nauseous. 

  "The minister has a party coming up, and I had thought we," he paused and exhaled the tension out from his chest, "could we go _together_ , hyung?"

   Kyungsoo has never seen a general this pleading before, which makes his lips stretch once again into another smile. Before he opens his mouth, Jongin bravely continues. 

  "M-my father has requested for me to invite you but I can pick you up on my way there." Jongin says quietly.

  "Those who say yes say a loud 'Aye!'," Kyungsoo raised his hands while his nostrils flared and he mocked a bidding announcer's tone before clearing his throat and looking at the younger from his peripherals. 

  "Aye!!" He loudly booms out and watched how Jongin's shades changed from pink to a fully flushed red from his cheeks to his ears. 

  Laughing slightly, Kyungsoo took quick, short steps to where the man sat and gave him a reassuring pat on the head –something Jongin knew he'll never forget the feeling of – and said, "Tell Jongdae the time and we'll meet. Formal, yeah?" 

  Nodding was all he could muse to do in the spur of the moment. All too shocking and surprising and heart-hammering were the series of very fortunate events – in contrast to Kyungsoo's favourite, Lemony Snicket (from detailed research) – that had happened to him this day. 

  Boy, wasn't he hitting the jackpot, as of now.

 

 

  "Good, I guess, evening?" Junmyeon greets upon entering the room.

  Kyungsoo, albeit all the fuzz about an issue outside the premises, had been quietly sitting in his study, claiming it as his natural habitat.

  It was where, of course, Junmyeon knew he'd find the boy lurking in, serene and relaxed.

  "Good almost-evening to you," Kyungsoo replies back, refusing to tear his eyes from the sight down the palace as he sat on the window sill.

  Not once did he pay attention to Junmyeon's pacing figure beside the seats opposite where he sat, quietly. He wasn't able to pay attention to anything else, given that he was leaving. Chanyeol was.

  But of course, he'll see him again. He _always_ does.

  "Hey, hey," Junmyeon repeated more than twice and Kyungsoo didn't budge a single wee bit. Snapping his fingers didn't do the trick either.

  Somehow, whenever Chanyeol exits the gates of the premises, he has a hasty feeling curling in his chest and the urge to run after the said man kicks him in the gut so strong.

  So strong that he would dare jumping out the window to catch up to the speeding black car, run after it, break his bones and lose his sanity and whatever else came with it along the lines of dignity and social status.

  It's always worth risking it all for that man. That same man with more than two faces, posing as a modern day Janus in a movie shoot.

  Whenever he looks at Chanyeol, everything else fades in the background, only he's getting the limelight. Like a camera lens zooms in on him, and focuses there.

  The president's assumed tunnel vision for the scam hadn't proved to accelerate as time sped through their fingers.

  And the only possible reasoning applicable is, as expected and given. Kyungsoo's dreams.

 

 

 

  How do you fall for someone you alter in your sight? Since it's not always rainbows and butterflies in reality, at least not Kyungsoo's.

— September 21st, 13.07 AM  
* approximately fifteen days after first meeting; Spokesperson Kim Jongdae's birthday

 

>             _I got a call from an unknown number two minutes ago thus resulting to me rushing down to the palace garden, because he said to meet him there._
> 
> _It's elating to hear his voice, despite the gruffness of it against my ears. Also, it was not everyday that Chanyeol calls me, it's more or less a once in a blue moon phone call. Taking note that he calls from different phones most of the time, he's presumably always pre-occupied._
> 
> _Brushing past a few guards – specifically that boy Junmyeon had grown to like – was not a piece of cake served to you during afternoon tea with the queen._
> 
> _Needing to slip past a handful of men in suits and receivers was not taught in school. I had to learn myself how to, at the preliminary stages of my youth. So all this sneaking is hard work._
> 
> _Hard work for Park Chanyeol, the probably soon to be cause of my heart's foreseeable failure._
> 
> _When I met Chanyeol, the first thing that dwelled on my thoughts was doubt. I doubted and doubted and doubted the man further, further, and even further into the depths of my skeptic thinking._
> 
> _Just, Chanyeol came off with uncomfortably menacing bad vibes it makes even the hairs on  my toes stand up. His aura was nerve wrecking and dominant. In a sense where dominance is determined by the glare of the eyes and nerve wrecking is redefined by the arduous simplicity of the corners of his lips quirking into a confusing smile._
> 
> _'He is but a man.' I would tell myself when I find my newest circle of individuals rather intimidating but it obviously wouldn't hurt to dare on going outside my ready-made comfort circle._
> 
> _So yeah, I went out. Thoughtlessly, perhaps._
> 
> _Because albeit his striking appearance and the non-depleteable ego he carries around in his pockets like a magician's trick up his already rolled up sleeves, Chanyeol had forced my guts to be curious._
> 
> _Curious about him and his everything, I sure was. And that is, also, another reason why I'm risking so much for the person._
> 
> _Baekhyun had asked days before, "Why?"_
> 
> _By myself, I guess I would say it's an unavoidable attraction but Baekhyun had proposed a word far more complicated and deep for such simple implications on the given subject: love._
> 
> _What is love?_
> 
> _Love will be different for a man and a woman. Love will be different for the old and the young. Although one thing is for sure when love is dealt with — anyone can feel it._
> 
> _Love can be reciprocated and received. It is almost, eternal, if one would say but the thought itself would strike you as to think that we – the individuals who love – tend to die and wither away._
> 
> _See the picture as a lady and a plastic rose; at the time when the bells of death ring and the heavens are at its darkest, she would lie on her restless coffin peacefully, never going to wake or take another breath but in her hands, grasped carefully is a plastic rose — as she withers away with her soul, with no prince, light or god could save her, the rose remains intact, piece by piece still there, living._
> 
> _So love will continue to live, with the memories pinned with it but the bearer of this 'love' slowly but surely disappears. Therefore I beg to differ with Baekhyun's thoughts on love. Rather, me being in love._
> 
> _'Falling in love.' He had said that I was._
> 
> _Not knowing how long it took, I was in front of the garden's maple tree door with a new coat of varnish that took over the clean scent of the air. Prying it open with a slight push, I was delighted to find Chanyeol standing by the veranda, waiting._
> 
> _What Chanyeol told me about the palace garden was the abundance in flowers that it sported. The gardeners had planted sets of different floral breed greenery in the wide area of free landscaping._
> 
> _He had mentioned to me that the sight was a comfort to the eyes, and somewhat a compliment to the Blue House exterior._
> 
> _"Hey," I was not nervous but instead a bit giddy as I took small footsteps to where he stood, halfway into turning twelve o'clock._
> 
> _I was greeted with a signature half smile, as usual. "You came." Chanyeol almost whispers to me with his lips barely moving to say two simple words because inbetween those luscious lips and those beautiful teeth was a stick of awfully burning tobacco._
> 
> _No words were said after, since we're not the type of individuals to converse about the weather or other commonly used excuses for a decent talk. We merely enjoy the presence of the person. That was worth it._
> 
> _And I had noticed too, that when Chanyeol smoked, he didn't talk much because he seemed to be thinking. I would ask what the contemplation was about but I'd get nothing's and nevermind's in return._
> 
> _Surprisingly, he frowned, then removed it from his face as he glanced at me on his left, head stooping down slightly as I met only with his shoulders. Fingers taking the cigarette from his mouth, he started, "It's alright to pick flowers here, right?"_
> 
> _I gave him a nod and he continued, "Then here."_
> 
> _Slipping something into my palm, our eyes met for a split second and I drowned in them again. It's like a cage that locks me in, a beautiful kind of darkness that engulfs me and I never want to go out. But then he walks away with long strides and leaves, only the smoke from his mouth lingering in the heavy air as he exited the garden._
> 
> _When I put my lonesomeness and longing on delay and put my attention to what he had given me, I was too perplexed to react._
> 
> _Menacingly red and undying – a plastic rose._
> 
> _What...does that...mean?_

 


End file.
